Chapter 3 - THE FORGED WILL
By two o'clock in the morning, the mansion had settled into a tense, suffocating silence. The fire department had cleared the gas, but the sharp, acrid smell still hung in the air of the east wing.
In the master study, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves and bulletproof glass, Roman sat behind his massive desk. Across from him sat Victoria Vance, his long-time legal counsel and trusted confidante. On the desk between them laid a encrypted tablet displaying live security logs.
"The footage from the east hallway was wiped at 8:42 PM, Roman," Victoria said, her voice grave. "Whoever did it had top-level administrative access. They didn't just turn off the cameras; they purged the backup drives from the off-site server you mentioned to Julian."
Roman leaned back, massaging his throbbing temples. "Which means it’s an inside job. Only four people had those bypass codes. Me, you, the head of IT... and Julian."
"Julian called an emergency board meeting for nine o'clock tomorrow morning," Victoria added, sliding a printed document across the leather desk blotter. "And he just submitted this to the probate registry in county court two hours ago."
Roman picked up the document. His eyes scanned the header: Last Will and Testament of Roman Calder—Codicil of Succession.
"What is this?" Roman demanded.
"A forged amendment to your estate," Victoria explained. "It claims that in the event of your sudden death or medical incapacitation, voting control of Calder Global Logistics transfers instantly to Julian, bypassing the charitable foundation you established. It’s signed with your digital signature key—a key that was accessed from your private terminal during the commotion tonight."
Roman tossed the document back onto the desk, a cold, dangerous smile touching his lips. "He didn't just want me dead. He was ready to claim the kingdom before my body even reached the morgue."
"We can contest the signature in court," Victoria said. "But if Julian convinces the board tomorrow that you are medically unfit due to toxic gas exposure, he can trigger the interim CEO clause. He only needs six hours of executive authority to sell our primary shipping routes to the syndicate in Dubai."
"He won't get six hours," Roman said flatly. "Where is Clare?"
"She's in the guest cottage with Owen. Security has two men outside her door."
Roman stood up, picking up his suit jacket. "Remove those guards."
Victoria frowned. "Why? She's the primary witness. If Julian realizes she saw the person in the black coat—"
"Julian already knows she saw him," Roman interrupted. "Which makes her his next target. Putting armed guards outside her cottage just advertises where she is. I'm moving her and the boy into my private quarters."
Victoria looked at her client carefully. Roman Calder was a man known throughout the corporate world as a cold, unyielding titan who viewed human relationships as financial transactions. Yet for the past four hours, his primary concern hadn't been his multi-billion-dollar empire—it had been a housekeeper and her four-year-old son.
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"Roman," Victoria said gently. "Clare Dawson isn't just a witness. She saved your life tonight. If Julian goes down, he will try to tear down anyone associated with you."
"I know," Roman said, his voice dropping into a register of sheer steel. "That's why I'm going to destroy him first."
